Best Medicine: Part 2
by WichitaRed
Summary: The road to a new home


Best Medicine: Part Two

Alias Smith & Jones Story

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><p>'I think my leg is asleep under the weight of Jed's head. I can't feel my foot either.' Scanning the disorder that fills the inside the drummer's wagon, I spot a slicker hanging from the curved beam. Can I reach it? Stretching… so close…wriggling then I can feel my fingers on the oily fabric. Problem is my squirming has Jed grumbling, nestling tighter into my already numb leg.<p>

Ever so carefully, I exchange the rolled up slicker for my leg. Dangling my legs off the back of the wagon, I set to flexing my foot, the circulation slowly, painfully returning. Looking back, I see he has burrowed in. 'People always say he looks like an angle from heaven walking 'bout in boots—which we've both used to our advantage many a time to get out of trouble. Don't reckon anyone think him an angel now as pale and worn down as he looks. Figure, I look no better. No wonder this drummer doing Miss. Tisdale a favor by taking us up to the boy's home, looked like he wanted to take the offer back when he saw us.'

'Thought I'd be able to sleep once the streets of Aubry were far behind us, guess not.' Leaning against the wagon's side, I let the slow, steady, swaying rock me hoping I'll fall asleep. But it's the same. I close my eyes and see blood. Wiping a hand across my face, I mumble aloud, "I won't think about it." Instead, I reposition myself to watch over Jed. In his sleep, his small keeps swiping for a fly pestering him. I snort because ain't no fly only his long hair brushing 'gainst his cheek. 'His Ma's right, he's past due for a haircut. Jed's Ma…' I see her and shake my head. 'I won't think about that. I won't!'

Reaching out, I stroke the curl up and away so he will sleep easier. Running my fingers through his golden curls, I smile painfully. He will never know how much he means to me. 'Blazes I've seen more than most men will see in a lifetime.' I can feel my jaw beginning to quiver. 'NO! I won't think about any of it. What good is thinking on it or tears anyways? Won't bring any of them back!' Wiping my shirtsleeve across my eyes - I try to think of anything else. Miss Tisdale. 'She was sweet to us. Real broken up she couldn't keep us, too. Never would have figured our old schoolteacher Miss Tisdale would have thought so much of us. Her salary and one room cabin, wasn't no way she could take us on. I am obliged to her though for finding a place where we could be together, a way to get there and for keeping Jed while I rode over with Mr. Mathews to see… the rest.'

Combing through Jed's curls, I study his young face, 'He'd already seen enough. Kind of wish I'd stayed behind too. But I needed to see it with my own eyes. Not just, go by what we were being told. I thought… Well I didn't reckon on the smell. The blood dried hard in the dirt. I won't never forget dismounting and seeing all that dried blood. Or how our homes, built so close together, were nothing but burnt timbers and blackened chimneys. The air still stank of burnt flesh so different than-.' Burying my face in my hands, I rub hard at my eyes, trying to rub it all way. But, I can't rub the smell away.

"Hannibal?"

Peeking between my fingers, I see Jed up on his knees, his dirty hand inches from my arm.

"Ya dreamin'?" He asks quietly. "I heard ya moanin'."

"I'm fine." I shrug giving him a grin to show him it's not worth him worryin' on.

He tilts his head as he studies me and the frown settling into his face, lets me know he's not pleased with what he's seeing. "Ya sleep at all?"

"Naw, I'm fine."

With a knowing nod he edges over to sit alongside me. "Ya gonna have to sleep sometime ya know?" When I don't answer, he bumps his head against me – the way he used to. "Ya ain't fine. And, I don't care if I'm younger or not, I'm telling ya need to sleep."

Chuckling I look down at him. The audacity of saying just what he's thinkin' is one of his points I've always liked best. This time, he was right too. "I will when we reach the home."

Well that's that. Peterson and his wagon are gone, the dust has even settled from their departure. Only one thing left to do, that is to join Jed on the path leading up to the school. Right now, he's only about five strides 'head of me, but it looks more like several rods . . .looks that way 'cause this is one road I don't feel up to takin'.

On the other hand, I really don't have any choices left. Reachin' into my pants pocket, I feel for the solid reassuring weight of Pa's watch and with a long drawn out sigh I trot to catch up. "Don't worry." I hear myself saying as I lay an arm about his shoulder and wonder if I'm speaking to him or me.

'So, this is it.' I think as we stand before a two-story large brick and wood building, The Valparaiso School for Waywards, at least it's what the sign says. So I know we're in right place. It don't look too friendly, despite how Ms. Tisdale made it out. I mean sure it's nestled up in a little grove of cottonwood trees and the grass is thick and sweet all the way up to the wide covered front porch . . . but looking at it, I feel a chill run up my spine. Somehow, it looks kind of like a lonely place to be. Standing at the bottom of the front steps, I throw my shoulders back, giving Jed a squeeze about the shoulders, "Well standing out here ain't gonna get us beds for the night".

"Ya think we missed dinner?"

"You ever gonna stop thinkin' with that stomach of yours?"

"Nope."

"Well, come on than let's see if they have some food for you." I've read about how you can walk through a moment of your life and it feels like moving through molasses. That is exactly how I feel, right now, as we walk up these freshly painted white steps. I even feel like my hand weighs more than it ought to as I reach out and knock on the door.

Everything speeds right back up almost too quickly when the door flies open and I stare open-mouthed at a short, round, red-faced woman.

"Heh, what you wanting here?" She asks her hands working briskly at a towel as if we had interrupted her in the midst of work.

"Good day, ma'am. Ms. Tisdale sent ahead. . ."

"Oh—oh it's you. I was told you might be here today or tomorrow." She frowns shaking her head. "Two more mouths to feed, humph! Well, don't stand there gawking."

As she turns away, my first thought is 'RUN!' My fingers sneak into my front pocket tightly grasping the cold firmness of the watch.

"You coming or not? Mister Milton will want o speak to you. Come now – step smartly boys." Opening the door to an office, she scoops a pile of old newspapers to one side of a couch, motioning for us to sit. "Don't be wandering about. Keep yourselves and your hands Right Here!"

So now here we sit. I see faces peeking at us as boys quickly amble past the open door and I feel like a yearling calf left out for inspection at auction. Jed's eyes are squinting up tighter as he looks about, I know he don't think much of this either. The office is musty, smells of old cigar smoke but there is also three overflowing bookcases. 'Boy howdy but I'd love to get some time with them. And, hell-fire is that what I think it is sitting in the far corner.' Leaning forward, I stretch to see better and read _Brooker_ _Safe_ _Company_. 'Holy smokes a real safe. Just like I've read about in the yellow back novels that Ma's always fusses at Pa for buying me . . .' Thinking of them jerks me up quick and I can hear heavy steps approaching. I know it must be Mister Milton come to meet us. I glance at Jed, he is so rigid the muscles are sticking out in his neck and I nod in agreement, to how he is feeling, as we both stand to greet the man who will soon be in charge of us. Laying an arm about his shoulder I whisper, "Not no one".

He looks up me with a smile, "Not ever".

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><p>There is more to come. . . . .<p> 


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